I miss all those Sundays at my grandma’s house, so many Sundays, so many years. Once upon a time, it seemed we would never run out of them. It seemed as if there would always be cars lined up like dominos in the driveway, a couple of the trucks pulled up into the yard. It seemed as if the smell of frying chicken would always waft into the living room from the kitchen, drawing the men’s attention momentarily away from the Redskins-Cowboys football game and their talk of work and weather. It seemed as if the women would always be opening doors with their elbows, their arms full of casseroles or pies or three-bean salads.

The decision by Michell Hicks, chief of the Eastern Band of Cherokee, to do away with a column in The Cherokee One Feather was a mistake.

Our story last week about a fund that helps women pay for breast cancer testing and treatment pointed out cracks in the health care system. It’s not surprising that this situation exists, and while we hope the funding issues for this cancer program are solved, we hope — more importantly — that the health care debate that takes place every presidential election cycle will gain some traction this time.

On a political talk show recently, a well-known Republican political consultant spent a lot of time attacking public schools in North Carolina and the people who run them. No surprise there.

By David Curtis

Does time go by faster the older you get, or do we just have a better way to gauge its passing?

By Angela Faye Martin

My husband is unwittingly celebrating my month-long, albeit relative, independence from Chinese goods. He sits across from me at an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet in Sylva. Realizing that we chose Chinese, I remark, “you know, this marks the end of a whole month of having purchased nothing MADE IN CHINA, and it wasn’t all that hard.”

By Sami Felmet • Columnist

My muse seems to be marred in divorce and family issues lately. I think it was about this time of year that I became a single woman again. There were some surprises along the way. Some were hard to reconcile. Others were easier.

How’s this for a political endorsement: cast your votes in the upcoming municipal elections for those candidates who support land-use planning.

Let me say this first. This is not really a column about restaurants. The last time I wrote a column about restaurants, I suggested that Pizza Hut bring those poor young ladies holding signs on the curb out of the blazing afternoon sun and let them work inside in air conditioning. Two days after that column appeared, we saw one of those same young ladies holding a sign that read, “Chris Cox, We Love Our Job!”

By Stephanie Wampler

With a long flash of silver, the golf club revolved in a wide, smooth arc. The glinting club head cut through the air. Splat! It crashed against the tiny tomato and there was an explosion of juice and seeds. The lifeless remnant of the little fruit spun through the air and deep into the woods. It was gone.